Supercape

GM The temple was not large, although progress was understandably slow. A few more suspect stones were noted on the floor, and duly avoided. It did not help that the light was so dim. In the centre of the temple, with beams of shattered light falling from the broken roof ahead, was a temple to most horrible gods. The statues here were strange and disturbing, and built at odd angles giving everything a giddying, almost nauseating appearance. In various pots and urns, the Dust Devil could see the strange magic leaf growing... In the centre of the forbidden temple, Setho awote, dressed in yellow robes, his eyes red and black, a serpent coiling around his body. "You are...persssistent!" he croaked. The three Lemurian riders pointed spears at the mad sorcerer, their fear and loathing oozing from their hissing tongues.

Ronin And so... Ronin had walked back to the Crane residence, having memorised what to give Yoshie. Should tide her over till this mess got tidied up. Goddamn it, just when you think you have seen it all, Bedlam throws crazy at you... He gave Yoshie a kiss on the forehead, and she in turn told him he was a good boy and a bad boy in the same breath, as was her stern and loving way. He opened up the trap door to the Well, his secret hideout below the home, and descended. A few internet searches and he had the address. This, he thought, might mean trouble. Hell, it was usually trouble in Bedlam, and twice usually in Nancy street. He strapped on his protective vest, and with a cool flick of cloth his trenchcoat was on. Finally, with an elegant and even cooler spin, he picked up the Street Special (his customised gun) and slotted it into his trenchcoat. A few minutes later, he was driving his pick up throught the streets of Bedlam, pondering (without conclusion) just what in the hell could cause ink to flow and form like that. A few minutes more, and he pulled up outside the Black Rose detective place. Well, lets see what this is... Curtis was bold, but this was outside his comfort zone. Still, he kept frosty as he entered the building. "Hello, hello? Anyone here?"

GM When Robin asked when it was going to start, there was a brief second when Ms. Majorie Doors face lit up. Another recruit! How wonderful! said her beaming face, her jubilent smile, her gleaming eyes! Then, when Robin clarified that her query regarding time was for the express purpose of avoiding the protest, her face collapsed, her smile evporated, her eyes fell. "Oh!"...came the sound of hopes plumetting. "...well, its a seven thirty..." she said, more crisply than even she would have liked. "I am going of course. We cannot be intimidated by threats to our way of life! God Bless America!" she said, patriotically, shuffling some pointless papers in a pointless manner in attempt to show how much of a point she had.

GM "Ill try taking you then!" replied Rev, gritting her teeth (Which were, to date, still human) 50 Seconds....well that isn't good...but its better than five! Even with her optimism, she found herself counting down the seconds in her head, almost to the tune of her heartbeat (although, in truth, her heart beat was acclerating with every beat) She whipped forward her elongated arms and with splendid dexterity, made them wrap and coil around the Golden Villain. "Got him!" she yelled at Facs, most pleased. I hope! Unless he has a magnetic repulsion drive, is super strong, or teleports! Unlikely, but then again, this was Freedom City!

From the sounds of chat, its Rev that is up! So going to grapple Midas. Grapple Midas: 1d20+10 30 bam! Opposed Grapple: 1d20+25 29 to make totally sure this works, going to spend and HP to reroll that. Grapple reroll: 1d10+35 39 for opposed roll.

Yes, @Tiffany Korta, @Avenger Assembled, @Exaccus, @Thevshi this is still on my mind. And more, stuff about to happen in Hong Kong. The fall out from Head West (which is a few posts from a wrap) is that some Daka weaponry is heading for Hong Kong, into the greedy hands of the Hornet, who is in the midst of a power play now that Dr Sin is (apparently) incarcerated. If you are interested, the key questions are: 1. Tiff do you want Voin or the Scarab in the thread? (the latter following up from Icy Juice and the Hornet, the latter following the trail of the weapons) 2. Thevshi, what, if any, role to do want Tsunami and family to have?

GM Three spears behind them wavered slightly, as the Lemurians followed Venomax's actions with their black serpentine eyes. Yes. Traps! Lemurians did not sweat. They were retile men built for heat. It was hard to read their retilian faces, hard to see the flick of muscles under the scales, hard to penetrate the black eyes to see what wheels turned within their skulls. But even so, one could feel their fear. And fear begat aggression. Not towards Venomax or the Dust Devil. At least not yet, but they seemed to view the pair as tools in their mission, not allies to whom loyalty and empathy might hold sway. And their fear was like a powder keg. Spears and knives were grasped tightly, on coiled limbs ready to lance out. And they pointed down the temple. Onward! Like canary birds in a mine.

GM "You know Jack Jackson!" Jack Jackson was a somewhat obnoxious reporter who "Specialised" in super heroes. He was not anti superheroes, he was not pro superheroes. They were his meal ticket, and he loved reporting on them, and "reporting" meant "twisting the facts of the case as much as possible in order to boost sales and reputation without breaking the law" when it came Jack Jackson. No superheroes, as far as anyone knew, had been involved in the construction of the "Sunny Sunshine Immigrant Refuge", but it had been a political issue. Paid for by churches and charity (thanks, partially, to the devoutness of South American culture), plenty of people were unhappy at the refuge. Emerald City, like any city, had a problem with illegal immigrants. Some people even had a problem with legal immigrants. Crime had been circling around the refuge. But how much of this was news, and how much was fake news, was often debated. Sooner or later some superhero would step in. And presumably Jack Jackson hoped it was sooner. "The protest is tonight, right outside the Refuge! May it fall down in a heap!" said Majorie Doors.

Snakebite I hope we don't have to sacrifice a human either. Especially not me... Cassie was driven in many ways. But she wasn't so heroic that she would lay down her life. Risk her life, maybe. Sacrifice...well. That was another matter. She liked life. Quite a lot. "If we can help, we will. Although I really hope that doesn't mean human sacrifice. I...don't think it does. If we can just make sure the sacrifice that should have happened properly does happen properly, maybe that will work. But to get it right, we need herbs. Ingredients. Some kind of drug..." she offered. A thought struck her. She showed the old man her ring. "And if we can work out what this is...maybe that will help...."

Ronin Curtis thought he was seeing things for a moment. Did that really happen? He had seen plenty, but this was something new. "Sheesh...thats some spooky $£"%" he whistled. "What the hell's going on?" First things first. No rioting. "Hey guys!" he called out to the queue. "This ain't nobodies fault. Shouting and fighting at going get anybodies medication quicker. Its going to take a helluva day to get this sorted, and it's going to fry everyones nerves waiting. But we gotta pull this together, like Nancy street does, ok?" he said, firmly. He turned back to the pharmacist. "That's right, yeah? We can sort this somehow? Like, can't stop giving out medications people need. Even if they have to remember how they take it, still gotta give it to them somehow. At least, till this gets sorted..." And how am I going to do that? He turned back to the queue. "I'll look into this guys, don't worry. Just got find somebody who knows voodoo and spooky stuff, cause that's what this looks like to me. So if anybody knows anyone who can help....?" he asked the people.

ooc for this

GM Dec 5th 2018 Emerald City University Majorie Doors, the administrator of ECU was a pleasant enough middle lady in person. But, when it came to gossip, she was political. And when it came to politics, she was a gossip. A slightly sour lady with a big mouth, she had a rather firm attitude to immigrants, and was most pleased to let everyone know how noble and correct her firm attitude was. And today, she was most keen to complian to Ms. Robin Langley. Again. "Its disgaceful, you know!" she complained. "They are setting up a new immigration asylum centre in the Northern suburbs. The suburbs! Pff. Can you imagine the poor honest hard working people there!" she hissed, sure that everybody shared her view, because her view was surely common sense! "The crime, apparently, is through the roof!" she explained. "They should not have built the roof at all!" she added, pleased with her pun. "Housing all those Mexicans there, in one building! A breeding ground from criminals and crime!" At this point, every sentence simply had to have an exclamation mark. Perhaps even every word. "I! Will! Not! Stand! For! It!" she said indignantly. "Jack Jackson, the reporter, is doing a special on the crime there tonight. And I will join the protesters! No wonder people have tried to sabotage the building!"

GM The three men looked at each other. They were scared, sure. Panicked, even. But they weren't sure that dropping their weapons was any safer than keeping them in their hands. They looked at each other. They looked at the Scarab. They looked at the last faint glow that Yasser had left behind. They looked at each other again. "<Remember Ahmed? When he tested it?>" "<Remember? I had to mop up the mess....>" With memories activated and evidence mounting, fanatic loyalties melted. Three daka guns dropped to the floor, and they all ran from the building as fast as possible...

GM As knowledgeable as the Dust Devil was, the statues contorting around the archway were beyond his comprehension. He had the feeling that if he studied them too long, they would be beyond his sanity, too. They were not meant for human eyes. And even the Lemurian riders seemed to register disgust - even fear - at the ghastly scultpures. They pointed their spears into the temple, but seemed to prefer bringing up the rear. They were afraid. Although, to their credit, they mastered their fear, and moved as silently as one could have hoped for. The stone underneath wobbled at times, and the place echoed as they entered. It was a little dusty, and despite the blazing sunshine, the light was dim - beams of dusted light peppered the interior of the temple, seeping in almost languidly through the cracks in the stones. Venomax was about to step forward when he spotted it. A trap! A suspiciously discoloured stone on the floor, an inch from his about to descend boot. And to either side, suspicious holes in the walls...ready to fire a stream of poison darts that would make Mr. Sting lament his absence even more!

GM And so... The Gas Man departed, muttering under his breath about back stabbers and people who stabbed backs. He wasn't a genius, but he was cunning enough to know when to cut his losses. Finnigan was marched off to special circusmtance jail, and both doctors and occultists went to studying him. He was a curious case, for sure - his danger seemed to lie in his infectious nature rather than strength. It was therefore deemed that regular prisons were not well suited to him. Instead, he was eventually handed over to the arcane heroes of Freedom City to set up what they could. He refused to be "Cured", for that would mean his death, and nobody was much inclined to do that. Instead, he rotted - literally rather than figutively - in the most humane cage they could conjure (again, literally conjure rather than figuratively) up. Trumble street continued to decay. It was not much improved by Finnigan's absence. Perhaps it was even a little worse. But at least the pick pocketing around that area dropped off considerably. But not completely. For there were still thieves around. With orange hair. And green hair. But Justice never sleeps! ~ Fin ~

So noted!

Snakebite "<You have been honest with us, and I can only be honest with you>" said Snakebite, slowly and with a twing of shame. "<We are historians, archeaologists. We seek to understand and bring the history to the present. It is..well...perhaps we are tainted with pride and vanity...>" she said, head bowed. "<But we seek no harm. We have found that temple, and...we found...Paruma....>" "<We do not understand fully what happened. But...I think they used human sacrifice to appease the beasts below this world. And we think one of those sacrifices went very wrong....>" "<I do not know, but I think the only way the world can be saved from Paruma is by the ritual done correctly....>"

Unfortunately this is dim and obscure, so know arcane wont be high enough. So noted on stealth! @Exaccusif you could throw stealth that would be spiffy! (and anything else you wish to do!)

GM Yasser fizzed, and Yasser sparked. It was a cacophony of fizzing and sparking, and - with the addition of sonic power, a most cacophonic cacophy. Three of Yassers henchmen, armed with Dara-rifles, came tumbing into the room. One look at their faces was enough to indicate they were already having second thoughts. There was a moment of sweat on brow, a moment of breath held most tightly...for one horrible moment it looked like the most might of explosions might level Cairo. Or even beyond. Pop! It was the most impressive on anti-climaxes. Bar the sound, and a few sparks on the ground, Yasser had plain dissapeared from sight. Quite possibly, he had dissapeared from the universe. "Where did he go? What did you do? Who are you?" came the bubble of angry and scared questions from Yasser's henchmen.

You may wish to roll notice, search or stealth rolls proactively depending on your actions!

GM As it so happened, the Lemurians dismounted. Stealth was all very good, but not so easy riding a velociraptor (or what ever their mounts where). Lances were put to one side, and curved knives drawn. By the way they glistened, Mr. Sting would have been most interested in their chemical composition. The temple was through thick vines and trees but easy enough to get to, if laborious. Up close, it was crumbling, almost at risk of collapse. Moss and creepers filled the holes and large cracks in the grey ancient stones. All sorts of enterances might have presented themselves under the fiolage, but the most obvious one was the main archway. Up and down the entrance, small statuettes of ancient perverse Gods and Goddesses doing ancient and perverse things in some kind of spasmic dance gave an unsettling impression of just whom this temple might be dedicated too...

GM "You want to call your lawyers and sort this out?" sighed the officer at Justice and the Gas Man. "Unless one of you wants to file a complaint or something...." The Gas Man lloked sorely tempted for a moment, but bit his lip. "Not the kind of heat I want, officer" he said, curtly. Although he did point a finger at Justice. "I'll remember that little trick though, sherrif...nobody should turn their back on justice!" "So true" sighed the officer, catching the double meaning. He took out his night stick and poked Finnigan in his oh-so-visible ribs. "Come on, bones, need to get you to the medical doc. And a priest, maybe. Doubt you will make it to jail, the way you look..." "See! Throwing a diseased man to the mercy of brutes and vagabonds!" complained Finnigan to Justice. "Please! Are you servant of law or servant of justice?"

So as far as I can see both Venomax and Dust Devil unharmed, no fatigue. I cant spy any HP use either which means... Dust Devil - 3 HP - Unharmed VMX - 1 HP - Unharmed

GM "I got a reputation to protect!" demanded the Gas Man, fury building. He took a step back, looking at the camera's in the Police Station. "Hmmm....yeah...I have got a reputation to protect" he said. His voice was still angry, but softer now as he realised that a criminal record was actually pretty bad for a reputation. "I got kids to feed though!" he lied. "I need that bounty money. Good money. Easy money!" he explained. "And I had it all under control till you showed up and shot me in the back?" "You shot him in the back???" said the police officer, who was hand cuffing Finnigan. The wrists were so thin that it was arguable just how effective they were. "Yeah he shot me in the goddamn back!" said the Gas Man, a grin on his face that spied a small vengeance. "Wait....what did you say about infectious?" said the officer jolted back to what Justice had said and now rubbing his hands nervously...

GM "You ain't going to steal my catch! I'm going to make sure you...wait? You said I can have him?" bombarded the Gas Man, completely derailed from his plan of oratory. "Yeah...I mean...sure...I mean...yeah....I mean....sure yeah...yeah sure...." said a rather dazed and confused officer. This was proving too much for one day. "I cannot abide such cruel cruelty!" complained Finnigan. "Lock me up, officer! I will confess everything! Just get me away from these fiends and the barbs of free enterprise!" "Wait, you some kind of commie?" snarled the officer, feircly (and to his credit he had at least half understood Finnigan's speech). "That's right! Hail Hitler!" said Finnigan, dramatically. The officer clearly was not that smart, for outrage blinded him to the mangled politics. "You filthy commie! its into the slammer with you!" he said, angrily getting out his handcuffs. "You two can give your statements later!" he barked at Justice and the Gas Man. "What about my bounty???" demanded the Gas Man. "Shove your bounty up your...I mean...if you want to make a complaint, please fill out form 12c..." "And then you can shove the form up your...." he muttered under his breath. "I ain't standin! for this...." shouted the Gas Man, fingering the grenades on his ghillie suit...